


Circle at the Center

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-11-15
Updated: 2000-11-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 09:25:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: John's found out about Frohike and Langly. Angst ensues





	Circle at the Center

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Circle at the Center by LaTigre

Wayyyy too quiet in here these days. Time for SpottyLady to create more mischief in the "Strange Spots" universe. Not archived on my website -- not sure that I'll keep the website.

TITLE: Circle at the Center  
BY: (Lady Jaguar)  
DISTRIBUTION: Unusual Suspects, Basement (elsewhere by permission --I'm easy) Email forwarding is OK.  
RATING: R   
SPOILERS: None. This is September 2000. I'll be ashamed of my bad guesses later.  
SUMMARY: John's found out about Frohike and Langly. Angst ensues   
NOTA BENE: "Strange Spots" Universe  
DISCLAIMER: Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox own the Gunmen, not me.   
BETA: None. Misteaks R me!  
FEEDBACK: Encourages my bad habits.

* * *

#################################

"He knows." Ringo slides down bonelessly onto the couch, staring glumly at the evening news. "I thought we were careful. But he knows."

I nod, take a swig of my beer. "Yes. That's why he's not coming home as usual after work. Part of it is that he wants to give us space to explore our relationship. And part of it is loneliness. It's hard for him to be around us. It hurts too much. Makes him feel like an outsider."

"Yeah." Blonde hair shimmers as he nods, cascades over his face as he stares down at his knuckles. "That's what bothers me. I don't like how this is turning out. "

My heart stumbles at the words I've been waiting to hear; the words I've been dreading since our affair began. One month of the best sex I've had since the 60's and now it's all over. I knew it was coming. I just wish I could have held onto the magic for just a little while longer.

And so I stare at Ringo for a long moment, here at the cusp of our relationship. It's time for me to let go gently, something I've had a lifetime's experience at doing. I catalog him, noting the way the silken drift of hair veils his eyes and softens the sharp point of his nose, making my eyes the hidden camera of my heart so that I can take something out of all this when he and John are one and I am simply one, alone again. I stare and lock the images away inside myself, along with the taste of chocolate, the smell of our lovemaking on a lazy afternoon, and the warm and velvety feel of his skin.

He sighs; a brittle hiss that breaks our silence. "I don't want him to go," he says softly. "I can't stand to think about him leaving." The warm burn of the alcohol in my stomach turns into acid. It's the fight-or-flight urge, an old and familiar feeling. I want to run and hide from this moment. 

"I don't want him to leave, either," I force myself to admit. It's a half-truth, because if John stays, then my relationship with Ringo must end -- no matter whether or not they become lovers.

I tell myself it was doomed from the start -- the young elfin prince and the old ugly gnome. I can offer him nothing but words and a sagging middle-aged body that will fade before his hair has gone completely gray. The Ugly Duckling will remain homely, no matter how often he's kissed, the Frog Prince will wither and fade and no true love in the world that can transform him -- ever. 

But Ringo and John -- they fit together like a yin-yang symbol. Light and dark; a perfect and harmonious duality. They'll have many years together after I am gone.

Another swallow of beer, sharp and cold, and the gray sadness folds around my heart. This is no time to play the coward. I have to open my mouth and say the words that start the inevitable. Hello John, goodbye Mel. 

"So -- have you thought about how you're going to seduce him?"

That gets his attention. His head snaps up. Hazel eyes stare me, pupils pinpointing in shock.

I grin and sprawl, waving the bottle at him. "C'mon, Ringo. Don't tell me you never thought about it." The knot in my stomach has spread to my chest; a cold agony that makes me want to throw up. "I don't think he's considered it, though he may be more open to it now. And frankly, you'd be good for him. He's lonely. He needs the comfort of a relationship he can trust."

He shrugs; a small hunching inward on himself. 

"Besides, I seem to remember a certain blonde trying to lure him into hotchat session once upon a time." 

Amusingly enough, he blushes bright red. "Well?" I prod.

"Well... yeah," he mumbles. 

"So don't tell me that he's not tasty." I can't believe I force the words out without straining or choking.

There's another mutter from behind the curtain of pale hair. I take it for a "yes" of some sort. I glance beyond him to the clock. 8 pm. I have exactly an hour and a half to convince Ringo to make the moves on John.

"And I can't believe you've sat there and thought about him and don't have some sort of campaign planned to seduce him. So what's it going to be -- chocolate? Romantic movies? Cozy bar?"

"I don't have a plan," he snaps, glaring at me.

I grin smugly at him. "Uh huh." In truth, I'm sure he doesn't have a plan, but I've found that if you poke at Ringo hard enough, he'll come up with some sort of concept. Most of the times it's totally goofy -- but sometimes it's real magic. 

"You know, my aunt asked if I'd come up and see them sometime this month. I thought I might do that this weekend." If Pinocchio had been one of my ancestors, my nose would be about two feet longer after that whopper. I glance at the clock again and do some fast calculations. If I time it right, I can catch Mulder later tonight. Maybe he'll put up with me for a day or two if I show up with movies and a six pack in hand.

"Visit your aunt?"

"Yeah." Niether of us sounds terribly enthused. 

I eye the beer in my hand and the terrible old lie from my youth worms its way into my heart: if I drink enough, I damned well won't care what happens to me. Good one, Mel. And there's some beachfront property in Nevada that I need to lease for this weekend. I'll just wrap all the lies up in a pretty brown bottle and drink them all down and maybe the pain will go away and maybe I'll forget.

I tilt the bottle and let the liquid slide over my tongue, cold and crisp and malty. "You make a pretty mean spaghetti," I add with as much bravado as I can, "and that and a good bottle of red wine is a pretty decent start to any seduction. He'll be tired when he comes in and glad of something to eat and someone to talk to. The wine will help him mellow out fast." There. Boldfaced and fairly rude, but sometimes you need to hit Ringo with a sledgehammer to get him to pay attention. And heaven knows John is terminally shy and there are days when Ringo needs all the help he can in the seduction department. "That'll be a good start."

It's the wrong thing to say. His head snaps around toward me and there's something nasty and wild in the glitter of his eyes. I lean backwards slightly as he leans forward; a cat stalking its prey. Although I believe in my heart he would never hurt me, something in his face and his posture makes me feel as though I've just come face-to-face with a large maneating tiger. 

The noise of my own breathing is loud in my ears. I scramble to recoup; to deflect the storm that I see rising. "Ring --"

The sound of my voice is a trigger for his rage.

"GODDAMMIT!!!!" He roars and lunges at me. The beer bottle goes spinning to clatter against the floor as I jam an elbow against his chest and shove hard, but his weight and momentum are too much. He pins me against the arm of the couch, snarling, his eyes and teeth mere inches from my face. I shove a knee upwards but he traps my legs between his thighs and grabs both my wrists in one of his huge hands as he flattens his body on top of mine. I heave my shoulders upwards, trying to free myself, trying not to hurt him. Large fingers spider across my face and clamp down hard as he forces me to look at him.

"What in the HELL are you trying to prove?" His teeth are white and strong-looking. I can barely breathe with his weight on top of me. "Why in the HELL are you trying to force me to seduce John?" The pinpoint flecks of his pupils are almost lost in his smoky-gray irises. 

"Look... I'm just trying to help... " I manage to wheeze. He shakes me, snarling.

"Help?? HELP??? If this is some kind of fuckin' TEST of love and loyalty, I'm not playing it, Mel! I don't do games in relationships. You know that. Now what are you trying to pull?"

I'm getting dizzy with the alcohol and the effort to breathe. "You and John ... need to be... together to work this out...to help him. Trying... to clear..."

"Are you saying that you're leaving?" His voice is as cold as the void itself; colder than the ice-smoke eyes.

I close my stinging eyes. "I wish I could so you could be together. But I can't leave. Just ... making space."

"Making space?" 

"For you and him." That's as far as I get before his mouth silences me. 

There's nothing gentle in that kiss. I growl a protest and struggle again, but his mouth is hard against mine, demanding, possessing, insisting. I pull away, gasp for air. "It can't work. It has to be you and him."

"Who says?" Tiger soft, tiger deadly.

"Because if it's just you and me, he will leave. And niether of us wants that."

"Who says I had a twosome in mind?" he whispers against my ear.

"Whu--?"

"I think three's a much nicer number. So...flexible. So playful. So many options."

My brain is still trying to process the concepts. "Three?"

"Three." I can feel the warm ridge of his cock rising against my thigh. "It's a tricky relationship but it works well when the partners are in harmony. Like the Yin-Yang symbol with the circle at the center. Much better than a pair and an outsider, don't you think?" He arches against me slowly, rubbing his body along mine. With friends like Ringo, who needs Viagra?

He braces his palms against the couch and levers himself off me. I draw a deep breath. "Three?"

"Yeah." The Bratboy grin returns. "So tell me, Mel, how are you going to seduce the tasty and charming John Byers?"

I'd tell him exactly what sort of damned fools we both are, but he's kissing me again, stroking my face with feathery touches and somewhere in the back of my mind the fearful darkness has lightened again.


End file.
